


The Red God's Wife

by sunsetking



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Dark Daenerys Targaryen, F/M, Greek Mythology-inspired, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), as well as Greek Myth in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 10:14:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetking/pseuds/sunsetking
Summary: A fifth. A sixth. A seventh.Blood-red juice ran down Daenerys’s chin, and her fingers were stained ochre.An eighth. A ninth. A tenth.R’hllor grinned.An eleventh. A twelfth.





	The Red God's Wife

_ _

_ Betrayed. A couple steps away from the throne I devoted my life to winning back, I was betrayed by the one I loved most. _

Daenerys numbly felt life leave her, her blood seeping into the cold snow beneath her prone form.

_ Coward. You wanted me dead, Jon? You should have challenged me openly. You took advantage of my love, of our bond. You betrayed me. What gives you the right to do so? I am your father’s sister; you owed me your loyalty the moment you were born. _

Daenerys strained to look at the traitor, but the strength had ebbed from her body, and it would not move. She gave up, and stared hollowly at the ground. A fierce fire, born from the brief surge of strength that accompanied death, coursed through her shattered heart.

_ I love you, and you did this to me. I offered the world to you, and you did this to me. I hope you suffer, Jon Snow. I hope you lose everything you love. _

Daenerys closed her eyes, and the last true Targaryen left the mortal plane.

Daenerys gasped in shock, as the world twisted and melded around her. A savage agony tore through her soul, and the queen screamed.

She was falling now, falling through a black void. 

And suddenly, she wasn’t.

Daenerys awoke to find herself lying on a warm sandstone floor. Her cheek rubbed against the rough surface, a surface lit by dim torchlight.

_ This is the afterlife. _

“Perhaps it is.”

Daenerys shakily got up, and looked down. To her surprise, she wore a flowing red dress, one that would not have been out of place in the wardrobe of a Volantene noblewoman. A sudden terror ran through her, and Daenerys felt the place where Jon’s blade had entered her. She bit back a sob as her fingers ran over smooth, unbroken skin. 

“Ah, me. I must be a poor suitor if you begin to weep in my presence.”

Daenerys turned to face the source of the voice, and paused to study the scene before her. The Targaryen stood at the end of a long hall, which was flanked by torches. In the room’s center was a long, ebony table. On it lay a feast worthy of a god. Heaps of fruit, platters of expertly roasted meat, and flickering candles stretched out in what should have been an inviting image. In Daenerys, it inspired unease. And as Daenerys studied her host, who sat at the table’s far end, her unease grew.

He was a Ghiscari, or at least chose to wear the appearance of one. Daenerys would not have thought it strange had she seen him in Meereen, back when she had truly been a ruler. The man’s smooth, brown skin suited the red armor he wore, armor that reminded Daenerys of paintings of the Conqueror she had seen on Dragonstone. His hair was long and straight, and it framed a face adorned with a simple gold band studded with rubies. The man’s eyes, however, made it clear that this was no ordinary person. They blazed and glowed, and Daenerys blinked as her eyes adjusted to their light. He smiled, and revealed two rows of razor sharp teeth. He gestured to a chair across the table from his.

“Sit down, my beloved Daenerys. I’ve been waiting to meet you for a very long time.”

Daenerys hesitated for a moment, before strengthening her resolve.

_ I am dead. There is nothing to fear anymore. _

She strode forward, and took a seat in the chair across from the man. He waved his hand.

“Eat, eat! Death is an exhausting experience. I imagine you’re famished.”

Daenerys’s stomach turned as she surveyed the food before her. It seemed normal, but something about it was wrong. Instead of eating, she looked at her strange companion. 

“Forgive me,” she said quietly. “I do not know who you are.”

“Oh, you do, little Valyrian. You’ve heard my name countless times, but I forgive you for not knowing it is mine. I honor few with the sight of my visage as it was when I walked the mortal plane.”

_ This being was once mortal? And who could he be? _

“Were you one of my subjects in Meereen?”

The man gave her a gurgling, dry laugh.

“It has been centuries since someone has counted me their subject, Daenerys. Try again.”

Daenerys let the riddle of the man’s identity roll around in her mind, and finally shrugged.

“You cannot be someone I know, for you claim to have lived centuries ago.”

“Yet I know your name.”

“Yet you know my name.” Daenerys stared at the man’s face. “Enough of this. Who are you?”

The man snorted, and leaned back.

“To think that the mother of my children does not recognize me! What has the world come to?”

Daenerys felt a searing anger course through her.

“You are not my sun-and-stars-”

“I am not. I am no mere horselord. Think, Daenerys. You have been a mother to four children, sharing your children with two different fathers. The first was with your horselord, your sun and stars. The next three-”

“Drogon, Rhaegal, and Viserion. My children. I hatched them by myself.” The memories of that day flooded through Daenerys. “There was no father. I had no one that day.”

The man chuckled.

“Your children were sired by fire itself, Daenerys. Did our children not enter the mortal world in the middle of a blazing pyre?”

_ You claim to be fire? _

“I do.”

Suddenly, Daenerys made the connection between the man’s claims, the red armor he wore, and the rubies that graced his brow. Sweating slightly, she stood, and gave him a stiff, yet respectful bow.

“R’hllor. You are the Red God.”

R’hllor smiled, and nodded.

“Sit down, Daenerys. I grow weary of receiving mindless honors.” 

Daenerys sat down, her mind in turmoil.

_ He is a god! A real god, one who- wait. _

“My lord.” Daenerys said shakily.

“Yes?”

“I- what do you want from me? I, er- forgive me, I never worshipped you in life-”

The god waved his hand.

“Your whole life was an exercise in worshipping me, little goddess. Do not fret. As for what I want from you?”

Daenerys waited with bated breath as R’hllor thought over his words. When he spoke again, it was with a clear and stern voice.

“I want you to join me. I want you as a wife.”

_ What? _

R’hllor sighed.

“Perhaps I should begin at the start of my journey. Tell me, Daenerys, where do you think I am came from?”

Daenerys thought hard. She had always imagined that the beings who claimed to be gods, were they real, would have been eternal, with a beginning beyond human comprehension. She said as much to R’hllor, who laughed.

“No, no. We are much more alike than you think. I don’t care to reveal the whole of my past to you, for you have not earned that knowledge yet. But there is one thing you and I share. One accomplishment.”

Daenerys stiffened, and sighed.

“We have burned cities.”

“Exactly!” R’hllor leaned forward, excited. “I razed a civilization to the ground, long ago. It was wonderful, sensual, empowering- I have done many great deeds, but crushing Valyria towers above them all.”

Daenerys shivered as the Red God shared his past with her.

“You destroyed my people.”

R’hllor shrugged.

“Tell me, Daenerys, how did it feel to raze King’s Landing?”

Unbidden, words streamed forth from the Dragon Queen’s mouth.

“It was... beautiful. It looked beautiful, it felt beautiful- why, the very taste of ash on my tongue was beautiful. I felt so _ strong _, so powerful.”

“And why did you do it?”

Daenerys’s eyes darkened.

“Does it matter? I am a dragon, O Red One. I do what I want.”

“So do I. I wanted to destroy Valyria. And I was richly rewarded for my efforts, as were you, young goddess.”

Daenerys frowned.

“Enough of this. Why do you want me as a wife? I have nothing to offer you.”

R’hllor shook his head.

“You were born to be mine, Daenerys. The story of your House is the story of your creation.”

“I don’t understand.”

R’hllor shrugged.

“It’s simple, actually. Being a god is... a lonely life. I desired companionship.”

_ Don’t we all? _

“But I am R’hllor, and I would not suffer a companion who would be my lesser. I have plenty of devotees who eagerly offer me their freedom. I wanted an equal.”

“But how does this concern me?”

“How indeed.” R’hllor sat back in his ebony chair, and gave Daenerys a piercing look. 

“The other gods and I are anathema to one another; we would be forever miserable if I bonded with one of them. So I had to look to the mortal plane to find a wife.” R’hllor snorted in amusement. “But the people of the present are mere shades compared to the titans who walked the world when I was a mortal. I refused to lower myself to someone lacking the dragon-blood, which at the time left me with your mother.”

Daenerys stiffened.

“Am I-”

“No, you are not. Your mother was a woman wed, and I do not steal. But I didn’t have to give up my quest, for you were born. And when I saw your soul on its way to the mortal plane, I decided you would be mine.”

Daenerys shivered, and listened in rapt attention.

“I showered you with gifts. Why do you think flames never hurt you? Who do you think was the father of your dragons?” R’hllor grinned at the memory, his sharp teeth glinting. “I remember it clearly- you presented yourself to the flames, eggs in hand. How could I resist? You reveled in my fire, and our dance gave life to our sons.”

Daenerys closed her eyes, remembering the feeling of standing on the pyre, of the joy she had felt at her children’s birth.

“After that, I was forced to tend to other matters, for we gods battled each other, all of us aiming to expand our hold on Westeros, a continent which I have long desired.”

Daenerys raised a brow.

“We have that in common, at least.”

“We do. And I decided to give you all the help I could. My servant revived Jon Snow, in the hopes of securing you the North.”

Daenerys snorted.

“That was a mistake.”

“No, it wasn’t. I had the chance to study you, to see what more I could give you, what more you could accomplish. And lo! My prayers, my hopes and dreams came to fruition. You _ burned a city. _ At last, I had an equal. And so, when Jon Snow murdered you, I celebrated.”

“That’s cruel.”

“You will forgive me, I hope. Instead of a mortal soul, I was blessed with the chance to woo a goddess.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Daenerys,” R’hllor said softly, “if you were still a mortal, your soul would have traveled back to the mortal plane in another form, in another time. But through your actions, your glorious leap forward, you became _ more _. Half a million people died at your hand; they are forever bound to you now. Your fire consumed their souls, as mine did to the people of Valyria, and through that feasting, became more than human. You are a goddess now. A weak one, yes, not yet granted a sphere of influence, but a goddess nonetheless.”

_ A goddess, me? _

“I am many things, my lord, but not a goddess.”

"Oh really?” R’hllor asked. “I ask you again, Daenerys- how did it feel, burning King’s Landing?”

Daenerys swallowed, and carefully collected her thoughts. When she spoke, it was in a calm voice, one that descended into fury.

“I wanted my strength to be known, across Westeros. I wanted to be feared, to be respected. Rule through my subject’s love wasn’t working; I was finished, R’hllor. The man you revived ruined me. He betrayed me- me, his lover! His aunt!” Daenerys stood up, her chest heaving. “He told his cousin the truth of his heritage, and she plotted my downfall. Sansa Stark, Tyrion- that damned Lord Varys- I was surrounded by mangy wolves! They saw my misery and decided I was mad! MAD!”

R’hllor watched in silence, a thrilled smile on his face.

“So, I decided to teach them a lesson. At first, I decided to burn the Red Keep, to break the wheel. But then, as I flew to my target, I looked down. And I saw the pathetic creatures running below me, running like the insects they were.” Daenerys’s lips broke into a deranged smile. “R’hllor- is it not a subject’s duty to serve their queen?”

“It is.”

“So, the people I burned should have been grateful! If what you say is true, and I became a goddess by consuming their souls, then they are doubly blessed, for they will serve me _ forever! _”

R’hllor nodded, and stood up. The god walked to Daenerys, and gently stroked her cheek. Daenerys allowed the contact, and stared into R’hllor’s blazing eyes.

“You asked me how burning people feels? It is _ wonderful. _ It is an orgasm that never ends, a bliss that grows stronger with the passage of time.” Daenerys giggled. “Westeros should thank Jon Snow, I suppose. Sooner or later, Drogon would have set White Harbor alight, or maybe Oldtown. Winterfell would have been first, though.”

R’hllor nodded, his mind lost in the memories of razing an empire that had ruled half the world. He bent slightly, and pulled Daenerys close.

“Do you think this exalted level of thought is something a mere human would be capable of? You are a godling, Daenerys, like me. Morality, mercy, kindness- this are toys, made for mortals by mortals. Beings like us are more, and we have no need to be constrained by these rules. Do you see?”

“I do.” Something snapped, and Daenerys could see it clearly.

“Join me, Daenerys. Eat from my table, and agree to be my wife. I will grant you a sphere of influence worthy of the last Valyrian. Peace, revenge, whatever it is you desire, I will help you get it.”

Daenerys nodded, lost in the bliss that the memory of the burning of King’s Landing had brought her.

“I have two requests.”

“Give them voice.”

“Firstly, give me a child. Another child, to replace the two that were stolen from us.”

“I will not stop at one, Mother of Dragons. I will make you the mother of countless serpents.”

Daenerys nodded fiercely.

“And give me the power to avenge myself.”

R’hllor smiled, his sharp teeth gleaming in the torchlight.

“They called you mad, beloved. What is madness but a fire of the mind? And all fires are beholden to me. Should you accept my hand, I will give you the power to drive mortals to insanity. Punish your enemies with the pain they tried to give you.”

Daenerys looked at the table, and reached for a basket of fruit. R’hllor watched, fascinated. Daenerys’s shaking hands lifted a pomegranate from the basket, and she studied it for a moment. 

Then, with a savage force, Daenerys smashed it against the table, cracking it open. She then lifted the biggest piece of pomegranate to her mouth. 

She ate a seed, and then looked at R’hllor in surprise.

“It tastes like blood.”

“I am fed by sacrifice, dear one. You will grow fond of its flavor soon enough.”

Daenerys ate a second seed. And a third. A forth. 

R’hllor watched, transfixed as the plan that had consumed him for three centuries came to fruition.

A fifth. A sixth. A seventh.

Blood-red juice ran down Daenerys’s chin, and her fingers were stained ochre.

An eighth. A ninth. A tenth.

R’hllor grinned. 

An eleventh. A twelfth. 

Finished, Daenerys let the rind fall to the floor. Idly, she found the clasp on her dress, and let it free. The dress left her form, and Daenerys stood bare before the Red God. 

“If this is a wedding, the time has come for us to go to bed.”

_ Skitter. Skitter. _

Daenerys chuckled at the dragon hatchling’s attempts to walk on its tiny legs. She gently lifted it into her arms, and lovingly stroked the beast’s red tail. As she did, Daenerys let her mind expand, and looked into the breadth of her realm. 

R’hllor had kept true to his word. Moments after the pair had lain together, the Red God had granted her control over the fires that raged in the mind. 

Daenerys could see it all, the unstable undercurrents that ran through the heads of men and women alike, across the two continents she had known in life, and the many more that lay to the east and to the west. 

_ The west. Ah, the Sunset Sea. _

It had been there where Daenerys had detected a ship carrying Arya Stark. The vessel had been a good place to practice her newfound skills, and the water-dancer and her crew had taken violently ill, their minds torn apart by the newborn goddess’s fury. Then, Daenerys had blessed the Stark with the only gift she could bestow on a mortal, and the girl had murdered every last one of her comrades before coming to her senses.

_ Her screams were lovely. It’s a shame she drowned herself; I would have enjoyed listening to them some more. _

“You surprise me, wife. I didn’t think you would be patient with your nephew.”

Daenerys smiled at R’hllor’s words, and let her attention float onto Winterfell. 

“The stage is not set yet, dearest.”

Daenerys laughed as she remembered her surprise at Jon Snow’s fate.

_ I shouldn’t have been surprised, in truth. He is an oathbreaker- he can’t help it. When Sansa Stark invited him back, he chose to stay in Winterfell. _

Daenerys carefully studied the tattered skein of Jon’s mind. She had carefully planned her revenge, mapping it again and again onto the traitor’s thoughts. Despite R’hllor’s curiosity, she had tried to keep it a secret. 

_ That in and of itself is an impossible task. He knows, I am sure of it- _

“Perhaps I do, perhaps I don’t. Let me hear it from your mouth.”

_ Fine. _

“There is a play I once saw in Astapor. In it, a boy was warned that he would kill his father and bed his mother. To avoid this fate, he left his home, killing a passerby on the way to a city, where he rose in rank, marrying the previous ruler’s widow.”

“I see.”

Daenerys laughed, both bitter and exhilarated.

“The man he had killed was his father, his newlywed wife his mother. The prophecy was fulfilled.” She focused again on Jon’s mind.

“In the dead of night, I whisper in his ear. I point out how beautiful his cousin is, how pleasing Sansa Stark is to the eye. It won’t be long now before he sires a child on her. And you know how much he despises what he deems incest. Even now, his guilt troubles him. I wonder how he will react once his dreams become actions.” 

Daenerys didn’t have to wait long, not that it mattered. Soon enough, her whispers had the desired effect, and Jon Snow bedded Sansa Stark.

_ And now the coward flees beyond the Wall. Run, little snake. Run. _

Daenerys turned to her grandnephew, whose mind had not yet formed. She tore into it with relish, twisting unformed thoughts and ravaging his unborn mind.

_ You called me mad, Sansa. Your pup will show you the true meaning of madness. _

Several months later, a babe was born. A sudden madness attacked a handmaiden, who ran off the child, northwards.

“You impress me, Daenerys.”

“Enjoy the mummery, love.”

The babe grew into a deranged man, a demon of a wilding who terrorized his companions in the lands north of the Wall. And one day, he clashed blades with a broken crow.

Daenerys cheered as the man killed his father, and turned southwards.

_ I’ve gifted him with an obsession for the woman they call the Red Wolf. She’ll be warming his bed soon enough. _

“You will have a guest to tend to soon.”

Daenerys nodded, her hand patting the red dragon.

“Daenerys-”

Jon screamed as Daenerys flicked a finger, and his mind shattered. A moment later, she clenched her fist, and the traitor regained his senses. Daenerys cocked her head sideways, and then gave her son a gentle tap on his back.

“Dinner, love.”

The dragon shrieked, and dived down from the ceiling to swallow Jon whole.

Daenerys closed her eyes, reveling in the traitor’s screams. Unconsciously, her hands rubbed the swell of her stomach, where another dragon grew.

“Finished with your quest?”

Daenerys opened her eyes, smirking as she turned to face her husband.

“No, no. This is only the beginning.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This fic was originally meant to be a Hades/Persephone-esque fic with R'hllor/Dany, but it kind of ballooned from there. I hope you liked it, and I look forward to your comments! 
> 
> Also, if anyone can find the original source of the image in the story, please tell me! I can't find the artist, and the pic was on a old folder in my computer.


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